


we were born sick

by princess_syd



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Other, Russian Roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_syd/pseuds/princess_syd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“although if you don’t, it seems you’re leaving quite a lot to fate, whereas if you do spin, it’s on your own luck.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were born sick

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to kelvy

“who’s next?” louis’ voice was rough, his presence overwhelming in the cramped space. 

“me,” harry whispered, scissors still clenched blade up in his left hand. in his right was a black t-shirt, jagged edges where the sleeves should be. 

louis flicked his wrist and the gun scraped coldly across the table, stopping at the very edge. niall and zayn were impersonal, each rolling dusty cigarettes with bored expressions. harry pulled the fabric over his head, looking down at the four-chambered pistol with his brow furrowed over brilliant green irises. 

“d’you want me to spin it, or just-just go.” his jaw was clenched too tightly to let a quaver into the slow voice, but it was tense, the kind of tense you feel all over when you’re trying not to cry.

“your choice, love.” the shorter man’s voice was cinnamon now, sharp and serious and warm. “although if you don’t, it seems you’re leaving quite a lot to fate, whereas if you do spin, it’s on your own luck.”

quietly, harry wrapped three fingers around the base and spun it quickly, once, twice, with his left hand. zayn was watching him through hazy eyes, niall alert to every movement he made. louis was barefoot behind them both, not a falter in his decorous attitude. 

harry had the gun in his right hand now, slim barrel kissing his right temple. they all heard the inhale, rushed and scared, before the soft click of the empty slot. a tear ran down his cheek, into the precise spot a dimple used to appear.

“save the tears for your pillow next time, curly.” louis’ tone was mocking, teasing him for living. he wouldn’t have to be here if he’d lost, harry thought. but louis never lost.

“it’s my go.” zayn’s tone was hushed as always, cloudy aura never alluding any pretense of emotion. the younger boy leaned over the dull oak surface, carefully placing the elegantly formed weapon in front of the raven-haired man. the whiskey-colored eyes were searching his soul, harry felt, sending shivers down his spine.

“third time lucky this’ll be, right, z?” he sounded different now, as if joking with an old friend about childhood memories. 

zayn was silent, taking a final infinite drag off his cigarette. he picked up the gun, expressionless, and didn’t spin before gracing the center of his chest with the gleaming barrel. click. the caramel skin stayed neutral, lips puckering to light another smoke. 

“your turn, ni.”

louis’ expression was careful, sounding almost bored this time.

“say something to us, ni, so far the entertainment has been lacking this evening.”

“remind me why we do this again, lou?” niall’s brown fringe was nearly flat against his forehead, only the tips lifting near his crown. 

“how else are we supposed to live if we don’t believe we’re about to die?” he was sitting on the table beside niall, looking down at him, a maniacal grin lighting cerulean eyes.

“without gang activity or drug use, abiding by the law.” niall spun the cylinder, eyes locked with louis’.

his expression darkened, assessing how the brogue-tongued man’s fingers tapped against his thigh, where the revolver rested over his silently pounding heart. 

“one more for the folks at home,” he winked, and pulled the trigger. click.

harry was slumped in his seat, eyes wide and hair curlier than usual from being pulled at out of stress. 

“it’s your turn next.” he mumbled, staring at the grimy tile. 

“quite perceptive you are, curly. it is.” louis cradled harry’s cheek in one hand, leaning down to kiss him so gently the other two looked away.

“wanted to taste something sweet before i go.” harry looked at him imploringly, confused and unwilling. 

“louis, wait-”

he grinned before pulling the trigger.


End file.
